


shoulda known we'd never get far

by randomling



Series: Waifs And Strays [1]
Category: Popslash
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ordinary People, High School, M/M, Summer, Teen Romance, Teen Sex, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:15:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomling/pseuds/randomling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For years to come, Justin will count it as the most perfect summer of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shoulda known we'd never get far

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phaballa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phaballa/gifts).



> With thanks to #yuletide for cheerleading, and titling help.

**1996**

The first time it happens is the day that school's out, the end of Justin's first year of high school - his and Trace's. They're both fifteen. Trace comes to Justin's house, just like he does two or three afternoons a week, and because there's nothing but vacation for the rest of the summer, Justin says, "Momma, can Trace sleep over tonight? Please?"

"If that's all right with Trace's momma," Justin's mom says, and she calls Trace's house to make sure.

It's a hot summer night in Tennessee and they play basketball in the back yard until eleven, when Justin's mom yells from the house that it's past their bedtime. Justin complains under his breath that he's fifteen now, and school's out, they should be allowed to stay up until _at least_ midnight, and Trace gets that funny look on his face and says he's sure they can make their own fun.

Justin doesn't know what that means, and he doesn't know what that look means, either, the one that Trace gives him sometimes when they're sweaty and tired, or when they're changing clothes in the locker room at school. He doesn't know what it means, but it makes him feel sort of weird and nervous inside, though not in a bad way. Sometimes he wonders if this is the way he's supposed to feel about girls.

He talked about it with his mom once, a year or so ago, and she said he was just a late developer. He doesn't think it's like that.

So Trace follows Justin up to his bedroom and gives Justin that funny look again when they're getting changed into clean shorts to sleep in. It's way too hot to wear anything _but_ shorts, and if he was alone Justin would probably be sleeping butt-naked. No; make that definitely naked. It really is hot.

Trace sleeps on an air mattress on the floor by Justin's bed. In just his shorts, Justin climbs into bed and pulls the covers up. Two minutes later, he kicks them away.

The lights are off, but moonlight is shining through Justin's pale drapes, a full moon right outside the window. Trace has kicked off his covers too, and his skin looks pale, almost translucent in the eerie light. Normally they would talk, but something is strange between them tonight, and instead they lie there looking at each other for the longest time.

After what seems like hours, but is probably only a few minutes, Trace whispers, "Justin, scoot over."

"What?" Justin whispers back.

"Scoot over."

"Okay."

Justin scoots to make room for Trace on the bed. It's only a single, but they're two skinny teenage boys, and they fit just fine, though they're a little close and nearly-naked for Justin to be totally comfortable. Their faces are only a few inches apart on Justin's one pillow, and then Trace leans far forward, impossibly far, and touches his lips briefly to Justin's.

Justin's kissed girls before and it wasn't like that. He's supposed to be dating this girl from math class, and they've been out to the movies and kissed exactly four times, and the last one was a long and involved kiss, all tongues and panting and Justin thought it was gross. This is... Justin gasps, and the weird excitable feeling in his belly suddenly becomes a full-on erection, and Justin's the one who starts the kissing the second time.

It's long and involved but not at all gross, and soon with the kissing comes the kind of touching that Justin only does to himself when he's absolutely certain the bathroom door is locked. Trace whispers to be quiet, but Justin, terrified of his mom hearing and coming to investigate, doesn't have to be told. After they've finished, and cleaned up the mess with handfuls of Kleenex, and changed their shorts, Trace gets back onto his air mattress. Justin sleeps alone.

***

The second time, they're at Trace's house. It's the first Thursday after the end of school, and both of Trace's parents are out at work. Justin's mom figures they're old enough now to amuse themselves without getting into trouble, and Justin's glad of that.

Justin shows up at Trace's in the early morning and they play ball outside until the sun gets too high for that. They they go into the house, where it's a little cooler, and drink lemonade in the kitchen. Then Trace takes off his shirt and Justin can't help but look at the skin of Trace's chest.

Justin's the taller one. When they're standing, Trace has to stretch up to kiss him.

The coolest part of Trace’s house is the basement with its stone walls and dirt floor. Justin would normally feel weird about scrabbling around on that floor and getting dirty, especially naked, but Trace puts down a blanket and Justin doesn't even mind when he rolls briefly off it and crumbs of earth stick to his sweaty skin. That's the time they first try to do anything with their mouths - except for kiss, of course - and it's really hard to get much of Trace's dick into his mouth, but even Trace's clumsy attempt at sucking Justin feels so good that they vow to try it again.

That summer, the basement becomes their favourite place to hang out and screw around. Most days, Justin shows up at Trace's house in the early morning and they'll play ball until it gets so hot they can barely breathe - and that part is just like any number of previous summers. The part that's different comes after that: they spend their afternoons in the basement, naked and spread out on the blanket, kissing and touching each other.

For years to come, Justin will count it as the most perfect summer of his life. By the time school starts again, he's lost all the types of virginity he cares to lose just now, and he's harbouring thoughts of letting that last one go, the one he only really knows anything about from jokes and sly comments and imagining it in his head. He knows there's a word for it, 'sodomy', and that word comes from a story in the Bible, and he wonders if maybe it hurts or maybe it will be the best thing yet.

He doesn’t the chance to try it, though, because like all summer flings, the thing with Trace has to come to an end.

***

It's the week before school starts, a Wednesday, and the weather is still blasting hot. They're not at Trace's house today, but at Justin's, because his mom has asked him to stay home. The new washing machine is being delivered at some point and Justin's parents have to work.

After the delivery, Justin and Trace go up to Justin's bedroom, which is where they usually spend their afternoons when they're at Justin's place. Three months of summer and they haven't gotten tired of this - in fact Justin can't imagine getting tired of it ever, though these past couple of weeks it tends to be more like an hour or so of fooling around before Trace suggests doing something else, instead of having to stop suddenly when someone's parents get home.

This week's been different again, though. Justin guesses they both know that they've only got a few days left before they go back to school again and everything changes. Trace is suddenly into it again, as into it as Justin is, or more so even, rolling over on his side to kiss Justin again even after they've gotten off for the third time in two hours and Justin is hot and so, so tired. It's Trace, though, and Trace is his best friend and it feels so good when they touch each other. So Justin leans into the kiss and lets Trace's hands snake over his thighs again.

That's how they are, tangled together and kissing in the late-afternoon sun, when Justin's mom gets home from work.

Justin hears the door downstairs and his mother calling for him but, oh, he's distracted, and really it's only going to be a couple of minutes before he can yell back. She'll surely see the new washing machine and forget all about him for a few minutes, anyway. Justin pushes up harder against Trace's hand.

He hears feet on the stairs, his mother's voice coming closer, a knock on the door. He tries to tell her to hold on, but a sudden movement of Trace's hand steals his voice away, and the next second she's opening the door. Staring down at Justin. At Justin and Trace, naked and touching each other on Justin's single bed.

Justin didn't know that a hard-on could disappear so suddenly, one second to the next, but it does.

"What the hell is going on here?" Justin's mom asks, though she must know. Surely she knows. She's got eyes.

"Mom - " Justin starts.

"Miz Har - " is as far as Trace gets, yanking on the nearest sheet to cover them. It does cover them, but the damage is already done.

Justin's mom looks right at Trace. "Get dressed and get out of my house."

***

Justin doesn't see Trace again until school starts the following Monday. They have most of their classes together, as usual, but for the first time ever that's not a good thing. Trace sits next to Justin in his regular seat in homeroom, but looks straight ahead and doesn't say a word, even when Justin leans over towards Trace's desk and whispers something about one of the dorky boys in the front row.

It's not until lunch that Justin manages to corner Trace and _make_ him talk. He's a lot bigger than Trace, so that part, at least, is easy. Getting Trace to look him in the eye is harder; Trace insists on staring at the floor between Justin's sneakers.

"Why won't you talk to me?" Justin whispers.

Trace, still not looking up, looks pained. "I'm not allowed to."

"But I'm the one that's in trouble," Justin says. "It was..."

"Your mom called _my_ mom," Trace says sharply, cutting Justin off. "So I'm in trouble too. And I'm not supposed to talk to you, not ever again."

Justin's stomach tightens horribly at the thought of never talking to Trace again. Trace has been his best friend since first grade, the one person he tells everything to, _everything,_ things Justin can't even tell his mom. Okay, so he didn't tell Trace about how he doesn't really want girls, but he _showed_ him that. Wants to show him again.

Trace is Justin's best friend and Justin loves him.

"They'll get over it," Justin insists.

"No, they won't." Trace looks Justin in the eye now, and he looks so hard and angry that Justin wants to know what really happened with Trace's folks when he got home. "They won't. You don't get it, do you? We can't be friends any more."

That hits Justin harder than a punch in the mouth. He reels back, and it becomes clear that the only reason Trace was talking to him at all was because he had Trace penned in with his arm. Now that there's a gap, Trace ducks out - carefully not touching Justin anywhere - and walks off, not even looking back.

"Trace!" Justin hisses.

Trace doesn't look back.

***

**1999**

Justin has something wrong with his eyes the day he leaves Tennessee. Everything's sort of blurry as, 5am, he loads his suitcases and a couple boxes into the Honda and takes his last look at his mother's house. There's a note on the dining-room table, and his mom won't be up for another hour or so, so there's no danger of having to say goodbye in person. There's a little voice in his head that tells him he's a coward for leaving like this, but hell, he's eighteen years old now and he can do whatever the hell he wants.

There is one person he wants to say goodbye to, though.

It did blow over, eventually, the storm over Justin's mom finding them in bed together. It took a lot of lying, that it was just a one-off thing, stupid, and no of course they're not gay. When Justin and Trace finally started talking again, four months later, it was both funny and wonderful to find out that they'd both told exactly the same lies. Then again, they always did think the same.

Their friendship recovered some, but it's never quite been the same since that summer. And since last year, when they both learned to drive, they've drifted apart a little again; Trace has gone back to girls with a vengeance, girlfriend after disposable girlfriend, but the older Justin gets, the more he figures out that he's only interested in boys. He's had a couple of boyfriends in the past year, carefully hidden from everyone, both college boys from Memphis, and when the last one dumped him a month ago it really only made up his mind.

He stops the Honda on Trace's route to school and honks the horn loudly when Trace passes. Trace looks surprised to see Justin out there, pulls over by the side of the road, and they both get out of their cars.

"What?" Trace says with a smile. He perches on the hood of his car as Justin leans against his own driver's side, looking Justin up and down with some approximation of the weird look that started it all.

"I'm leaving today," Justin says.

"Leaving?"

"I"m going to California," Justin says. "I wanted to say goodbye."

Trace looks at him differently then, eyes wide. "You're not even finishing school?"

"Nope," Justin says. "I'm eighteen, I don't gotta."

"Huh." There's a long pause while Trace looks at him consideringly. Dispassionately, maybe. "Well, good luck."

"Thanks."

There's a pause. Then Justin says, "Come with me."

Trace blinks. "Come _with _you?"__

__"Yeah. California." It's not something that Justin thought of asking before, but he has to ask it now. They could take off together in Justin's car, a road trip, and it would be just like that one wonderful summer, for the rest of their lives. Together. "It'll be amazing, man. It's so much better out there."_ _

__"Why?" Trace asks. "Why ask me?"_ _

__"Because." Justin's hands flail in the air as he tries to find the words to explain. All he can manage is, "Because we're gay."_ _

__"You're gay," Trace says flatly. "I'm not." His tone isn't disgusted or condemning, but factual and emotionless, which is somehow worse. Justin's whole chest seems to collapse right through his stomach and onto the floor._ _

__He leans forward to kiss Trace goodbye. Gently, without malice, Trace puts his hands up to Justin's chest and pushes him away._ _

__"Take care, man," Trace says, and he walks around to get into his car._ _

__Justin gets in the Honda again, and whatever was wrong with his eyes this morning has come back even worse. He has to blink furiously so that he can even see ahead of him. He watches Trace's car drive down the road and out of sight._ _

__Then he pulls out his atlas, opens it, and traces the long line of I-40 with the index finger of his right hand._ _


End file.
